Montana Secrets by Kay Stockham

anecdotes did the trick and pretty soon Maura was laughing, albeit in resignation.
    â€œSo I guess Seth isn’t as bad as he could be, then?”
    Grace offered the younger woman a smile. “Nope. Be patient a bit longer. Maybe we’ll get through to him soon.”
    Maura’s gaze hardened. “I hope so. I honestlydon’t know how much more of this I can take.” Tears appeared once again and she turned away, busying herself with getting a small plastic plate from the dishwasher.
    â€œI’ve got to get back. We’ll talk later, okay?”
    Maura nodded, obviously unable to speak.
    Grace pushed Maura’s upset to the back of her mind as she turned and carried the second tray down the hall, leaving it on the hall table outside Seth’s door where it could be seen—and hopefully smelled—from within his bedroom.
    That done, she reentered Seth’s room and then positioned herself outside his bathroom. She heard the shower shut off and her nerves kicked into overdrive.
    She didn’t like these types of encounters. Never had and never would. Seth’s mutterings from within the bathroom didn’t help, either, because with each one she could hear his anger building as he tried to perform the simplest of tasks, things he used to do without conscious thought.
    The door to the bathroom opened and swung toward her. Grace caught the paneled wood before it hit her in the face, and made sure it blocked her presence from Seth’s line of vision. A moment later he emerged, his T-shirt sticking to his back and shoulders where he hadn’t dried himself completely.
    As though right on cue, he lifted his head, his shoulders and back taut as he noted the open doorand heavenly scent of Maura’s home-cooked breakfast wafting in from the hallway.
    Eggs and bacon, biscuits and sausage gravy. Orange juice and fresh brewed coffee, strong and black the way Seth liked it.
    Grace’s mouth watered thinking about how good everything would taste and her stomach growled loudly. Eyes wide, she clamped a hand over her belly and waited anxiously to see if she’d tipped Seth off to her presence behind him.
    He hadn’t heard her. But only because he was too busy cursing, having realized he was going to have to get his breakfast himself by venturing outside his room—which she’d learned over dinner last night was something he hadn’t done since his last therapist left. He ate here, slept here. Brooded here. But all that was about to change.
    Go on. Go get it, for pity’s sake.
    Seth’s reluctance was obvious as he wheeled himself to the doorway of his bedroom and leaned forward to peer into the hall. He scowled, but a second later he crossed the threshold, his wheelchair more out than in, and she grinned.
    Gotcha.
    She raced across the floor on silent feet, shoved his wheelchair the few inches it took to get it completely out into the hall, slammed the door and locked it behind her.
    â€œWhat the—” Seth turned, his already thunderous expression darkening even more. “Open the door!”
    She shook her head. “No.”
    Seth grabbed the wheels of his chair and awkwardly swung himself around, the supports under his feet threatening to clip her ankles. “Get out of my way.”
    Raising her hands, Grace stepped to the side. Three, two, one.
    A savage curse split the air. “You locked it? Where’s the key? Give it to me.”
    She leaned against the wall in a pose as casual as she could make it and shook her head again. “Nope.”
    Seth’s dark eyes narrowed into slits. “Is that all you can say?” he demanded. “You locked me out of my room— in my own house —and that’s all you can say? ”
    Her gaze slid to the tray. “Your food’s getting cold.”
    More curses filled the air, and Grace sincerely hoped Maura had heeded her advice and gone upstairs to keep an eye on Lexi.
    â€œOpen